Wet Spaniel

Copley Square fountain
a spaniel shakes his wet fur
the soaked woman smirks

5.09
s.d.

MD Unwinding

It’s party time; down Route 100 East
We roll until we find the haven’s door,
Prepare ourselves an alcoholic feast
And argue over who’ll sleep on the floor.
Friends of friends amass upon the scene.
I slip the tumult, close the screen behind
And contemplate the Chesapeake. Serene
In starlight, it implores me to unwind...
Atop a nearby pier, a silhouette
Suggests a woman in like-minded state;
I join her for a conversation. (Let
Impending dawn and rumination wait!)
     We share a while, alone, among the boats
     And laugh in learning neither of us floats.

5.09
s.d.

Comfort Food

She’s comfort food: mashed potatoes and gravy.
The menu changes infrequently, I consider
All that starch, becoming fat.

5.09
s.d.

An Unremarkable Evening

The last time I made love, the chilly night
Enshrouded me in garbled secrets that
I never shall discern. And so, the trite
Old ritual morphed into idle chat.
“I had a splendid time tonight,” she said,
Then grimaced at the shadows on the wall.
“Yes, it was nice,” I blandly claimed. Instead
Of cuddling me, she curled into a ball.
My saviour was the queasy yellow moon--
That phosphorescent beacon of the skies.
I sensed that other wand’ring souls had hewn
Its crags, with longing gazes from their eyes.
     Inferring kindred spirits in my boat,
     I drifted, calmly, on a peaceful note.

5.09
s.d.